


Attention

by IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, One Shot, POV Arthur Weasley, Parenthood, Slice of Life, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/pseuds/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis
Summary: A lot of things escaped Arthur's notice, but even he could see that Percy was not cut out for life in a big noisy family.(A fic in honor of Trans Awareness Week)
Relationships: Arthur Weasley & Percy Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Attention

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Trans Awareness Week! 
> 
> I wanted to write something to mark the occasion – and somehow I ended up with this fic which features a character that I see as trans, but... this is a pre-transition fic told from the POV of the parent of the trans character. 
> 
> As a transmale person, there are a lot of parts of my life story that touch on gender but are not massively _about_ gender, and there are other parts of my life story where the gender part of the narrative was hidden at the time to anyone but me. As an example of the latter: when my mother read preschool-aged me _The Cat in the Hat_ , I identified with the older brother in the story, without being able to articulate that it was because _I felt like an older brother, too._ There was not even a subtle clue for my mother there, because I never said, “Hey! He has a younger sister just like me!” - much less, “I’m like the boy in this story!” I never mentioned the boy in the story at all – but I noticed him, and I felt strongly that I was him and he was me. 
> 
> Just as four-year old me – seen from my mother’s POV – was ‘she’ and ‘her,’ five-year old Percy, seen from Arthur’s POV, is ‘he’ and ‘him.’ Arthur just doesn’t have enough clues at this point (and the clues might not even be obvious enough for *anyone* to see at this point, except in hindsight) to realize that Percy is actually a girl, she/her, who will grow up to call herself Penelope, who as the first out trans Minister of Magic will wear a sensible pants suit to work and rock a slinky royal blue gown at the first Yule Ball of her tenure. 
> 
> This does not totally let Arthur off the hook. When, at age seven, Penelope tentatively asks her father “What if I had been born a girl?” for the first time, Arthur will chalk this up to ‘Percy’ being under the misapprehension that the reason Molly is having no more babies is because she had been determined not to stop until she had a girl. He will tell his ‘son’, “We would have had the twins anyway. Which reminds me, you have still not apologized to George for hiding his broom.” And a year later, when Penelope is avidly questioning her mother about her makeup, Arthur and Molly will agree in a private conversation later that, “Percy would do _anything_ to get time alone with one of us. Even pretend to be interested in makeup.” 
> 
> Not that either of those things should be enough for Penelope’s parents to change their mind about her gender without, you know, actually talking to her about her own thoughts and feelings on the subject. There are plenty of other reasons a 'boy' might show interest in makeup or wonder what life would have been like if they had been born a girl. But these instances and many others in Penelope’s life represent missed opportunities for her parents to have picked up the conversation. And they will become stories Penelope will point to in frustration when many years later, Arthur insists defensively, “But you never gave us any indication!”
> 
> Which is all to say – sometimes, the narrator of a story fails to notice that the story they are telling has a trans character in it. Sometimes it is easy to miss. Other times, just a little more awareness would go a long way. 
> 
> So - a trigger warning for trans readers – be aware of what you need today. Because _Arthur_ is the narrator, and because Arthur has _no clue_ about his third child’s gender, this fic is full of misgendering, using the name that Penelope will come to think of as her deadname, and a handful of sad little clues that we readers are only picking up on because we have the insight – and in some cases, experience – that Arthur lacks. If that’s going to be too much for you today… be kind to yourself.

Arthur woke sometime after midnight to the sight of five-year old Percy swaying sleepily at the foot of the bed, ‘Madam Minister’ (his cuddly toy rabbit) dangling by her ear from Percy’s fist. Arthur wondered why Percy was standing there and not climbing into bed. Percy came into his parents’ room rarely – only when he had had a nightmare – but when he did, he always climbed straight into the space between Molly and Arthur without speaking a word.

It was then that Arthur remembered that that space was already occupied by a sleeping two-year old. Arthur sighed. He was not awake enough to work out how to handle this problem, so he simply lay there watching his son, who was himself gazing curiously at his mother. She was sitting up in bed nursing Ginny. Percy’s aspect shifted from one of interest to abject sadness.

“Are you ok, Percy?” Arthur asked, wanting to curse himself as soon as Percy’s wide wet eyes met his own – Percy was obviously _not_ ok. But the child nodded stoically and turned around to leave.

“Wait up, there,” Arthur said, pushing himself up. “Let me take you back to bed.” Arthur rose from the bed and picked up the sleeping Ron, then took Percy’s hand. “I need to go to Charlie’s room first.”

Arthur didn’t want to leave Ron with Molly – Ginny needed her full attention. He carried Ron up the stairs and into Charlie’s room, pulling back the covers and tucking him in next to Charlie. Charlie’s eyes opened just enough to look sweetly confused.  
“Dad?”  
“Shh… it’s ok. Ron just needs company.”  
“’kay,” Charlie agreed, shutting his eyes again.

Outside of Charlie’s room, Arthur went to pick up Percy, but Percy pushed against his arm. “It’s ok. I know I’m too big.”

‘That Merlin-cursed Muriel,’ Arthur thought angrily. The day before, at the twins’ fourth birthday party, she had lectured all of his children (even the uncomprehending baby) on one shortcoming or another. Arthur had overheard her telling his sensitive, anxious, well-behaved Percy that he needed to be _yet more_ grown up. ‘Big boys,’ she had said, ‘recognize when their parents are busy. They do not trouble them over trivial matters.’ Arthur did not know what had prompted that particular critique of Muriel’s, but he did not need to know the details in order to know that she had been wrong to say it.

With four younger siblings, Arthur worried that they had forced Percy to grow up too quickly as it was. He needed more attention than he and Molly were ever going to be able to give him. And Bill, who had been picking up the slack in that regard, was going to be leaving for Hogwarts in five months. Arthur felt a stab of grief – for Percy, it was going to be like losing one of his parents.

Arthur got down on his knees, so that he could look his son in the eyes. “You will never be too big for a hug, or a snuggle. And right now? You are still just the right size for carrying when you are sleepy. Maybe we should take advantage of my arms being empty, for once?”

Percy didn’t answer, but smiled a small smile, so Arthur scooped him up and carried him to his bed.

“Tell me about your dream?”  
Percy shook his head and handed his father a book: _Dilys Derwent: Scholar, Healer, Leader, Witch_. Arthur smiled. When he was three, Percy had started rejecting any stories that weren’t ‘true stories.’ Serious little mouse, finding fiction to be a waste of time. Right now, _Dilys Derwent_ was Percy’s favourite. Arthur wasn’t even going to have to cast a Lumos to read the words – he could recite it from memory.

Arthur sat up against the headboard beside Percy, and Percy scooted closer, snuggling into Arthur’s side, throwing a leg over Arthur’s legs, and clinging to his arm. Arthur smiled. It was always the same – Percy was such a snuggly child.

Arthur thought about the look that Percy had given Molly and Ginny in the bedroom, and about him angrily shouting at the twins in the morning before the party. “Dilys Derwent was an only child,” Arthur observed. “I wonder if she was lonely? Or if she liked the quiet?”  
Percy didn’t answer, but gripped his father’s arm more tightly.

“The twins can be pretty rambunctious. Would you like me to ward your bedroom against them? I’m sorry they spilled your ink this morning.”  
“He did it on purpose.”

Why would a child have destroyed his older brother’s sketches _on purpose?_ That did not seem likely.

“I’m sure that he didn’t really –“  
“ _Dad!_ George said that I was being boring, and that it was their birthday, and so I needed to go jump in the mud puddles with them, and I said ‘no, thank you,’ just like Mom told me to, and Fred pushed over my ink.”

Arthur still thought it was likely an accident – Fred just had _too much energy._ And Percy had punished the twins enough himself, Arthur thought, screaming at them that he wished they had never been born.

Not that Arthur had meant to leave it at that. He had heard the altercation, and had started on his way to Percy’s room to remove the twins and have a word with them about the importance of leaving Percy alone when he was drawing. But before he could get his head into Percy’s room to intervene, he had heard Molly’s surprised shout coming from downstairs and gone to investigate. Molly had been preparing the food for the party and been startled when Ron came into the kitchen completely naked and caked in mud from head to toe. So, Arthur had taken Ron up for a bath. Carrying Ron to his room to get him dressed afterwards, he noticed that Bill was still not up, so he had to make a detour to harangue him out of bed. Then Molly had come to him with the news that Charlie had ‘gone missing.’ Arthur had brushed it off initially (‘Molly, he’s probably just in the chicken coop, as usual’), but sure enough, by the time he had caught up to the boy, he was past the Lovegoods and almost to the Muggle village. When the two of them got back, the first guests were already arriving. The twins had never gotten their reprimand.

“I’m sorry, Percy. I’ll ward your room against them so that it doesn’t happen again.”  
“Ok,” Percy said, after a small silence.

Arthur yawned. He opened the book and began reading:  
“You have probably heard of Dilys Derwent, the famous Healer and Headmistress of Hogwarts. But she was once a child just like you, a little Witch with big dreams. Her childhood home in Wales was hidden behind a waterfall. At night, little Dilys would listen to the roar of…”

  
Arthur woke in a dark room, sweaty, his back aching. Apparently 32 was not too young to have a bad back, regardless of his protests to the contrary the week before. The more immediate cause of his discomfort was clear – Percy, warm and heavy, was pinning him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur must have fallen asleep in the middle of reading the book.

It was no wonder – Arthur could not remember the last time he had felt well-rested. There was always a child waking in the middle of the night – Arthur hadn’t slept through the night since Bill was born, more than 11 years before, and given that Ginny was just 8 months old, he had at least two or three more years of sleep deprivation ahead of him. Arthur felt a flash of gratitude that the Mediwitch had told Molly that it wasn’t safe for her to have more children. But he couldn’t feel sorry for any of the children they had – each was precious, individual. To be glad they were stopping after Ginny felt wrong, like he was wishing a potential child out of existence.

Which brought him back to Percy, who seemingly wished that they had stopped with him. Arthur brought his hand up and laid it on the small boy’s back.

Percy had not been two yet when the twins were born. He couldn’t possibly remember a time before they had existed. But Arthur did not wonder that he fantasized about a world where he was not ganged up on and insulted by the younger boys. He wished Gideon and Fabian were still alive. They would have been able to help them understand the twins, discipline them better.

Though even understanding the children wasn’t enough if more than one of them needed attention at once. Arthur had to wonder if he and Molly would have had so many children without the war. Would they have even gotten married so young, if the world had not been so uncertain? Having children gave life an illusion of normalcy, stability. How terrible could the world be, if babies went on being born? If children went on learning to walk and talk and fly brooms?

That was not a helpful line of thought, either. In the quiet of the night, when the bustle of family life stilled, Arthur’s mind would travel along these roads. He was glad for the not-thinking that characterized the bulk of his waking hours. Second guessing didn’t make a difference for anyone.

Arthur carefully lifted Percy off of him and got out of the tiny bed. He picked Madam Minister up off the floor and tucked her in beside Percy.  
Percy stirred, but his eyes did not open. “Dad?” he sighed, "I love you."  
Arthur’s heart clenched in his chest. He bent down and kissed Percy on the top of his head.  
“I love you, too, Mr. P.”

Arthur walked out into the hallway and carefully closed the door behind him. He cast a Tempus: only thirty minutes until sunrise. He would go down to the kitchen and brew a pot of coffee. If he was lucky, he might get to enjoy a few minutes of conversation with his wife over the first cup of the day before the twins came looking for breakfast.


End file.
